


merrier the more

by oneprotagonistshort



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, F/M, M/M, Multi, PWP, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneprotagonistshort/pseuds/oneprotagonistshort
Summary: “So you guys want to-” Quentin starts.“Fuck you,” Eliot says, completing the thought.“Together,” Fen adds.“Okay,” Quentin says, because the two of them have clearly planned this out and he isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.





	merrier the more

**Author's Note:**

> if there's gonna be a collection called "bisexuality: the musical" I'm sure as shit gonna contribute
> 
> this takes place in the [Jeremy Bearimy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFm9ClqlGuo), aka within the universe of the show but not alongside any particular canon

Quentin isn’t sure if he’d forgotten about the masquerade of if no one had told him in the first place. Either is equally possible, but he strongly suspects the latter.

Margo and Eliot and even Fen are in their element, fussing over every small detail before they leave for the party. Quentin’s watching Margo adjust the the cascade of curls that’s tumbling down Fen’s back when Eliot’s voice behind him makes him jump.

“Aww,” Eliot says, bending so that he can hook his chin over Quentin’s shoulder. “You like her.”

“I like them both,” Quentin says, not sure which of the girls Eliot’s talking about. “They’re my friends, obviously I like them.”

Eliot stands back up, replacing his chin with his hands, squeezing Quentin’s shoulders lightly. Quentin leans into the touch, almost relaxed, when Eliot surprises him again.

“You like Fen,” he clarifies. “You want her, don’t you?”

“What?” Quentin asks, not expecting the total confidence with which Eliot asks the question. “Fen? That’s- no, don’t be ridiculous, I’m with you.”

Eliot kisses the top of Quentin’s head. “It’s okay to want both, you know. It’s cute.”

“I know what bisexuality is,” Quentin says, rolling his eyes and avoiding the insinuation.

The thing is, Eliot’s not wrong. Fen is like no one he’s ever met. It’s like she’s powered by fireflies, her warmth flickering and glowing and radiating into everything she touches. She looks up at them from where she’s zipping Margo’s dress and smiles. Quentin doesn’t know how it’s possible for anyone to _not_ want her.

Eliot turns Quentin in his arms, bringing them face-to-face. “For what it’s worth,” he says, leaning in for a kiss, “watching you watch her is pretty sexy.”

Quentin can’t respond, mostly because he can’t think of what to say and partially because it’s Fen’s turn to sneak up on him. She covers his eyes from behind and laughs while Margo calls, “Masks on assholes!”

Margo has hers on already, a sparkling jewel-toned thing that looks as beautiful as it does expensive. Eliot turns Quentin again, winking as he practically shoves him into Fen. He stumbles a little, but Fen catches him. 

Her mask is made up of delicate curls and spirals in an intricate pattern that should draw attention away from her eyes but just makes them stand out even more. She’s smiling at him, and Quentin has to actively keep himself from staring, Eliot’s words still buzzing around the back of his head.

She must be wearing heels, because she doesn’t have to stand on her toes at all to fit Quentin’s mask onto his face. He sucks in a breath when she presses against him to tie it around his head, and this close he can smell her perfume. It’s light and floral and subtle and suits her perfectly. When she pulls back to admire her work she stays closer than strictly necessary, and Quentin doesn’t step away either.

Quentin realizes he has no idea what his mask looks like, confirming his earlier suspicion that no one had told him about the party until that morning. He can’t complain though, not when Fen’s still close and he can feel the heat of her body through his shirt.

Margo snaps her fingers to get everyone’s attention and leads them like ducklings up to the massive doors of the hall. Quentin looks over at Eliot, partially for courage but mostly for a hint as to what the hell he’s up to. Eliot’s mask is small and lacy and barely covers his face, but it does highlight his cheekbones in a way that Quentin has no doubt is intentional.

He faces the door with Fen and Eliot on either side of him. Trumpets sound and the doors open and each of them grab one of his hands as they’re announced.

*

Later, when he’s royaled enough to justify leaving, Quentin wonders where the hell Eliot has been all night. It’s not like him to make himself scarce during a party, and Quentin had missed his lifejacket while drowning in socialites. Fen seemed to sense his anxiety though, and when Quentin looked for Eliot he often found her instead. She’d made him dance, mercifully leading and not commenting when he stepped on her feet. That close he’d been able to feel her warmth against him, pressed tight to his chest and holding on just a little more than was strictly necessary.

He says goodbye to her when he leaves, but once again Eliot’s nowhere to be found.

*

Quentin’s in his room in his pajamas later that night when there’s a knock at his door. He ignores it, figuring that he’s fulfilled his royal duties for the time being, but whoever it is knocks again. Sighing, Quentin gets up and opens the door to a palace guard he doesn’t know.

“King Eliot requests your presence,” she says.

Quentin rolls his eyes but shrugs and follows her. Late-night booty calls aren’t exactly uncommon, and petulantly he thinks that maybe Eliot will actually pay attention to him now.

He makes his way to Eliot’s room, knocking on the door as the guard bows and politely excuses herself. It’s not a secret that he and Eliot are together, but Quentin appreciates her discretion given the time of night and the obvious nature of the visit.

The door opens just wide enough for Quentin to be pulled roughly inside, and suddenly he’s pressed against the tapestry-covered stone wall. Eliot’s on him immediately.

It’s a surprise but not an unwelcome one, so Quentin kisses back and lets himself melt into it. The wall is cold and Eliot is warm, and Quentin knows which one he prefers. He cants his body towards Eliot and makes a pleased noise when Eliot gets a hand up under his shirt.

He’s just starting to get hard, enjoying the friction of Eliot’s leg between his, when a voice interrupts them from the bed.

“You were right, Eliot,” Fen says. “He does look good like this.”

“ _Jesus,_ ” Quentin gasps, and pulls away from Eliot in his surprise. “Fen? How long have you been sitting there?”

Quentin knows that Fen and Eliot will stay in the same bedroom sometimes, something about marital decorum and tradition, but he’s never thought about it until now. When he looks over at her, she’s in bed wearing a slip that is clearly not for sleeping; it’s silky and lacy and doesn’t leave much to the imagination. She’s watching him and Eliot with a hunger in her eyes that Quentin has never seen.

“I told you, it’s okay to want both,” Eliot says and when Quentin connects the dots and realizes what he means it’s a miracle he doesn’t pass out. Eliot hikes his knee up between Quentin’s legs and this time when he gasps, it’s not in surprise.

“So you guys want to-” Quentin starts.

“Fuck you,” Eliot says, completing the thought.

“Together,” Fen adds.

“Okay,” Quentin says, because the two of them have clearly planned this out and he isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Technically he’s done this before, but last time he was strung out on emotion and foggy with the need to be close to someone, _anyone_. Everything is crystal clear when he lets Eliot take him to bed. Fen’s waiting, warm and soft and inviting, and she kisses Quentin as soon as he’s close enough. She kisses differently than Eliot, obviously, but it’s no less pleasant. Quentin can still smell her perfume in her hair and on the bed and lets himself get lost in it for a minute. 

Eliot’s naked body spooning up behind him helps Quentin realize that yes, he really is about to have sex with the two most beautiful people he knows. The thought hits him at the same time Eliot bites his shoulder and Fen pulls his hips flush against hers, and Quentin moans.

“I think he likes it,” Fen says, pulling away just far enough to look at Eliot over Quentin’s shoulder.

“I think he does,” Eliot responds, pushing up against Quentin so that he’s trapped between the two.

“He’s right here,” Quentin says, feeling left out of the conversation.

Fen pulls his pajama bottoms down just enough to get her hand inside and lightly wrap it around him. “He sure is,” she says, stroking him lightly without nearly as much friction as he wants.

Eliot laughs behind him, a low noise that Quentin can feel against his back. He tilts his head back and Eliot accepts it as the invitation that it is, kissing behind Quentin’s ear and smiling when he whimpers.

“Do you want to fuck her?” Eliot asks. “You can if you want. I like to watch.”

“Uh,” Quentin says, understanding the question but not remembering enough words to properly respond. Fen squeezes his cock just a little tighter and he chokes on air. “Yeah,” he says, figuring out how to speak again. “Yeah that uh, that sounds really good.”

The next thing he knows, Eliot’s pushing and Fen’s pulling and suddenly he’s between them without any clothes on. He’d admire their efficiency and teamwork, but he’s too busy staring up at Fen where she’s straddled his hips.

“I think this way is good,” she says to Eliot, once again as if Quentin’s not a part of the conversation. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is.

“I think you’re right,” Eliot agrees, and sits up on his knees so he can lean in to kiss her, slow and tender and Quentin can’t help but make a small noise at the back of his throat just from watching them. 

Fen rocks her hips down into Quentin’s. She’s not wearing anything under the slip and Quentin can feel where she’s warm and wet against him. He brings his hands to her hips, and arches up underneath her.

“Yeah,” Quentin says. “This way is good.”

Fen smiles and leans down to kiss him sweetly while she lines them up and unceremoniously sinks down onto Quentin’s cock. She makes a small, pleased noise against his lips as she settles all the way down, then pulls back to rock her hips in slow but even movements.

Quentin arches his head back with a moan and feels one of Fen’s hands slide up the column of his throat to grip his jaw. She angles him so that he’s looking at her again and clicks her tongue at him, but with no real disapproval.

“I want you to watch, Quentin,” she says, softly but firmly, not leaving it up for discussion. She moves her hips again with a little more purpose and Quentin gasps but doesn’t look away. Fen seems satisfied with the effort and nods to Eliot, who straddles Quentin’s thighs behind her and kisses the back of her neck.

“Keep watching Quentin,” he says, pulling Fen’s slip up and off of her and tossing it aside. 

They move together so well that Quentin wonders vaguely how much of this they’d planned out in advance. When Eliot reaches around Fen to palm her breasts it seems almost choreographed, though the shaky breath Fen inhales reminds Quentin that he’s not the only one enjoying himself here.

His hands settle back on Fen’s hips, letting her ride him while Eliot runs his hands across her body. Quentin knows what Eliot can do with those hands and would almost be jealous if not for the fact that he’s wrapped up in Fen. She’s hot and wet and tight around him and he loses himself for a minute, closing his eyes and exhaling around a moan.

“Hey,” Fen says, and her stern tone makes Quentin look up at her. There’s a sheen of sweat across her forehead now and she’s pushing down onto Quentin’s cock a little more firmly and not being as gentle. Eliot’s mouth is on her neck and she’s leaning back against him.

“I believe the lady told you to watch,” Eliot says, and he slides his hand between her legs.

Fen gasps and her hips stutter when Eliot touches her but she sets a new pace with a harder rhythm. Quentin starts arching into it, thrusting his hips up to meet hers, and suddenly he couldn’t look away even if he tried.

The flush in Fen’s cheeks is spreading down her chest and her breathing gets rough when Eliot applies more pressure between her legs. Quentin can feel her thighs starting to tremble against his. 

“That’s good,” she says breathlessly, and Quentin’s not sure which one of them she’s talking to but he doesn’t stop. She twists her head to kiss Eliot, open and wet, and Quentin understands now why she’s so intent on him watching. 

“You first,” Eliot says to her and she nods, bending down over Quentin to get a different angle, one that’s clearly working a lot better for her based on the way she starts moaning in earnest.

Quentin pulls a hand away from her hips and brushes her jaw with his fingertips. She’s close, he can feel it, and he wants to give her whatever she needs. He traces his thumb along her bottom lip and she takes the tip of it into her mouth. Quentin feels Eliot moving his hand faster between them, and then Fen bites down on his thumb and comes, shaking against Quentin before burying her face in his neck.

She’s trembling when Quentin feels Eliot pull his hand away, but she keeps moving, sitting up straighter to lean back against Eliot. Her thrusts against his hips aren’t quite as steady, but she’s smoothing her hands along Quentin’s torso and he’s so on edge that he doesn’t mind at all. Both Eliot and Fen are staring down at him and he squirms a little under their combined gaze, but it just serves to drive him up into Fen even more.

“Do you think he’s ready?” Eliot asks in a stage-whisper, said to Fen but with the intention of Quentin hearing every word.

“I think he’s earned it,” she says, looking down at Quentin. She shoves her hips down harder and he gasps. “What do you think, Eliot?”

The casual way they’re talking about him combined with the rough edge in Fen’s voice is making it hard for Quentin to concentrate. He doesn’t close his eyes again though, not wanting to miss anything.

“You’re right,” Eliot says, kissing her cheek. “Can you come for her, Q?”

Some part of him must have been waiting for permission because he comes as soon as the words are out of Eliot’s mouth. His hips thrust up into Fen’s one more time and he’s gone, head thrown back and feeling like all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

When he’s done, Fen lifts herself delicately off of him and rolls to the side, and Eliot surges forward to kiss Quentin as soon as she’s out of the way. Quentin doesn’t hesitate to reach between them, taking hold of Eliot’s cock and fisting it with exactly the pressure Eliot needs to come. Eliot’s hips jerk once, twice, and then he’s spilling against Quentin’s stomach, breath catching like he almost forgot he needs oxygen.

The three of them collapse into a sweaty pile, totally spent but completely satiated, and Fen’s the first one to say something.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she says emphatically and Quentin laughs, not sure he’ll ever get over the novelty of hearing her swear.

“Yep,” Eliot agrees, laughing with Quentin.

The three of them giggle for a minute, but when they settle down Quentin says, “So I’ll go back to my room?” not really sure if he’s invited to spend the night. He’s never stayed with them both at the same time.

“Don’t you dare,” Fen says, grabbing his arm even though he’s made no actual attempt to leave.

Quentin smiles and settles back against her. Eventually they’ll have to move at least a little, even just to clean up so they can sleep, but for now Quentin is happy to be right where he is.


End file.
